


Speak of The Devil

by aliasinvestigations



Category: Jessica Jones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Kilgrave is a walking trigger, Mind Control, Miscarriage, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pregnancy, Trauma, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:22:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27736807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliasinvestigations/pseuds/aliasinvestigations
Summary: Jessica's attempt at picking up the pieces of her life post-Kilgrave. Try as she might, her memories are still littered with remnants of her time with the Purple Man but her circumstances will soon change, and with it comes new opportunities to paint her mind a different color.
Relationships: Jessica Jones & Zebediah Killgrave, Jessica Jones/Zebediah Killgrave, Luke Cage & Jessica Jones, Luke Cage/Jessica Jones
Comments: 12
Kudos: 14





	1. Heinous Acts

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I'm back again after a three-year hiatus from this fandom, and more specifically, this story, which is a follow up to my one-shot Lucky. Immediately after writing and publishing Lucky, I sat down and wrote an almost-complete follow-up to it, let it sit in my drafts, and am just now getting back around to polishing it up. Please, please be warned though: there are extremely graphic depictions of bodily trauma (re: miscarriage) rape and emotional abuse throughout. This first chapter is very dark, however, I promise the story has a happy ending because Jessica deserves nothing less and I'm very much a fan of the original comics and Luke+Jess+Dani being an adorable super-family. 
> 
> Link to Lucky here:  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/13174482

“Alright, now that that’s taken care of, go clean yourself up,” Killgrave commands, waving a hand dismissively, not bothering to face in Jessica’s direction, instead remaining fully engrossed in the rugby game on television. 

Jessica holds in a shallow breath through the side-splitting pain as she forces herself to her feet. Pressing her hands against the wall to guide herself into the bathroom, her legs tremble and threaten to collapse.

A glance in the mirror displays a blotchy face streaked with tears, snot dribbling from her nose; a reflection of someone so unlike herself, fragmented and hollow, she turns away, unable to reconcile with the imposter staring back. As Jessica slowly removes her dress, a black bruise reveals itself along her stomach, dark and gaping, it could swallow her whole. She then pulls down her underwear, gingerly taking each leg out, and reels back in horror.

An arm. There’s a little disfigured arm with ten distinct, pink fingers. That’s what she had felt earlier. Body parts of a baby. Kilgrave’s baby.

The sight causes Jessica to wretch into the sink, clutching the countertop for support. She can’t just leave _it_ there, the translucent pieces of this recently formed, newly destroyed body cradled within blackened blood. She balls up her underwear, throws it in the toilet and flushes, sending out a silent prayer that it won’t clog. 

“I’m sorry,” She whispers hoarsely, watching the water swirl and sweep the transgression out of sight, “Please just… go away.”

Jessica turns on the shower, as hot as the dial will allow, and steps in. The water contacts her skin, transforming it to an angry red. She lowers herself down to the slick marble floor and pulls her legs up to her chest. The steam becomes thick, suffocating. A trail of blood circles the drain. She wants to sit there forever, curled up so small she could simply disappear into the mist forming around her broken body.

She didn’t know how long it had been by the time the water became lukewarm, causing goosebumps to form along her arms. She stands back up, a little steadier than before, and shuts off the water. The bleeding lightened, though she haphazardly stuffs some toilet paper in her clean underwear just in case. Grabbing a fluffy, white hotel robe and opening the bathroom door, steam begins to dissipate, rolling down onto the carpet and melting away as it collides with conditioned living room air. 

Kilgrave is still engrossed in the television, unbothered by the recent anguish inflicted on his beloved.

Jessica glimpses at the stain. It’s light brown now, no doubt the product of the maid’s painstaking scrubbing. 

“I’m going to sleep,” She announces, her voice raspy, strained.

Suddenly Jessica’s holding a wailing, rosy-cheeked baby. Someone tells her _congratulations, it’s a boy!_ Kilgrave is in the room, concealed by a group of people she doesn’t recognize. She tries to hand the baby off to a nurse; she doesn’t want to hold him anymore. She doesn’t remember any of this. Frantic, she tries to get up from the hospital bed but her body is cemented in place.

“You idiot!” Kilgrave hisses, his voice breaking through the crowd of strangers bustling around the room.

The baby is still crying in Jessica’s arms, she doesn’t have the slightest idea of how to comfort the thing. She can’t move, she can’t speak, so she begins to silently weep alongside her newborn son, they have become a new defenseless duo against the devil.

“That is _not_ what you were told!”

She wakes with a jolt, Kilgrave’s roars ringing clear in her ears, expelling any remaining sense of fatigue she had left. It was just a dream.

Kilgrave is on the phone, pacing by the couch. He turns to look at Jessica and grins. Her arms are heavy. The baby she was holding just a few seconds ago now whisked away, leaving an empty place at her chest.

“Forget it! You’re an absolute imbecile!” He announces before hanging up, hastily tossing the phone onto the coffee table and slinking over to sit beside her on their bed.

“Did you enjoy your nap?”

“Yes,” she lies.

“Excellent. How are you feeling?” he asks, brushing a strand of hair away from her damp forehead.

“Relieved,” She fires back. It’s the truth.

His expression sours at this revelation. “Oh come on, you know we couldn’t have that sort of thing get in the way of _us_.”

He leans down and kisses Jessica’s ashen cheek. She instinctively recoils at his pathetic display of tenderness.

“I’m going back to sleep.” She says, pulling the sheets tighter around her body.

He lets out a melodramatic sigh, “Fine. Just know I expect things to go back to normal tomorrow. None of this self-pity charade.”

What a joke. There was no such thing as normal with Kilgrave.


	2. What Doesn't Kill You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kilgrave doesn't it like when other men touch what's his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part takes us back a few months before the events of the previous chapter. Kilgrave, ever a true narcissist, only sees other people's actions in relation to himself and how it makes him feel. He can't fathom a reason for Jessica to refuse food other than to spite him. 
> 
> Another warning: this is extremely graphic non-con please read at your own risk. This is the most explicit and darkest chapter in the story, things will slowly start to get better from here on out.

The pair was in Italy, occupying a villa along the Riviera. Their day was spent shopping; Kilgrave had made a haul of new lingerie for her, strappy bodysuits and corsets dripping in lace. Nothing but obscenely expensive, flimsy pieces of fabric in Jessica’s opinion. Times like this leave her with an all-consuming sense of dread, weighing her down, making every step heavy, a little more anguished. She knows what’s coming next.

When the live-in chef brings dinner out that evening, the edges of Jessica’s mouth twist downward in disgust as the overpowering scent of garlic assaults her nostrils.

“What is it?” Kilgrave barks, slamming his fork down onto the table.

The chef, Enzo, stands next to the couple with bated breath, aware that a poor review could cost him his life.

“I think I’m going to be sick.” Jessica claps a hand over her mouth, stands abruptly and shoves the ornate dining chair out behind her. Enzo reaches his arm out for Jessica to hold onto, a polite gesture in any other scenario, this time, a death sentence. She goes to grip his hand for support but pulls away, instead whispers, “Don’t help me. He won’t like it. _Go_.”

Enzo nods discreetly and backs away as Jessica clamors towards the bathroom. The sound of her dry heaving echoing against the archaic cathedral ceilings contrast with Kilgrave’s voice booming on the other side of the thick wood door. Emptying the contents of her stomach does little to suppress the nausea, as the concept of yet another death on Jessica’s hands, no matter how indirectly, never fails to make her ill with remorse. _He’s telling Enzo to kill himself and it’s my fucking fault,_ she thinks, resting her head wearily against the toilet seat. 

Kilgrave steps into the bathroom, hands stuffed into his pant pockets as he looms behind her.

“I don’t appreciate the theatrics. After everything I got you today, I was hoping for a pleasant evening.”

He pauses briefly, giving the weight of his words time to sink in, then continues, “However, it’s clear to me now that you had other intentions. Let’s forgo tonight’s meal and turn in early, shall we?” he pulls a hand from his pocket and offers it to Jessica, which she reluctantly accepts.

Kilgrave makes Jessica remove her dress to display a sheer corset and matching thong underneath. She’s standing at the edge of the bedroom, shivering in shame. He looks her up and down hungrily, casually unbuttons his neatly pressed shirt, and rolls down his pants. Fear crawls up Jessica's spine, raw and real, as it wraps itself around her neck, she begins to produce short, sputtering breaths like a cornered rabbit. A glimmer of delight in his eye, Kilgrave saunters across the grandiose bedroom and pulls a boxcutter from the nightstand drawer. An idea springs into Jessica’s mind, bursting through the panic: _If she could find the will to steal the boxcutter it would only take a second to slit his throat. Or her own. But_ , she thought, _he’s dressed me up like a doll and he’s finally going to kill me._

“On the bed. Face down. Now.” Kilgrave growls. Adding, “And not one word from you for the rest of the night.”

Jessica obeys, laying down and shutting her eyes, she attempts to slow her sporadic breaths.

“Arms up.”

He uses a thick rope to tie her hands above her head, one in the direction of each bedpost, tight enough that before long she begins losing circulation in her wrists. An attempt to twist her arms out of the restraints is quickly thwarted.

“No fighting.”

Her limbs go slack, hands turning bright pink under the force of the knots.

“Didn’t like the lingerie I bought you today?” Kilgrave hisses, “Fine. I’m flexible.”

He removes his briefs and gets onto the bed, slithering over the top of Jessica, holding the boxcutter just above her neck, slowly moving it down over the corset, hovering long enough that her entire body begins to tremble in anticipation of a calculating stab. Once he’s satisfied by this response of unrestrained terror, he recklessly cuts the corset open and Jessica ejects a shallow breath, both relieved and disappointed at not yet having met her end. He then moves down to her thong and slices it open so that she’s now bare, bound, and surrendered.

“I don’t know what game you thought you were playing tonight with the help,” Kilgrave sneers, “but he’s been taken care of. Now, it’s time to take care of you.” He throws her legs apart, tauntingly traces down her right thigh with the tip of the boxcutter.

 _Just fucking do it. One nick to my femoral artery and this is over with._ This is what he wants, Jessica realizes, utterly defeated. To make her ruminate in fear, be reminded that he’s always in control, that even if he killed her right now it would do nothing to stop his path of destruction. 

When Kilgrave reaches the back of her knee, he throws the small weapon across the room. Jessica’s body betrays her and flinches in response.

“You see, there’s truly no one else that knows you the way I do Jessica, no other man will ever satisfy you like I can.” He emphasizes that last word by ripping her corset out from underneath her followed by her tattered thong. Clutching a handful of hair and tugging her head up off the bed, Kilgrave continues his monologue as Jessica writhes in distress. 

“Did you really think I wouldn’t see through your little rendezvous with dear Enzo? Faking sick so you could have a quick shag in the bathroom?” He yanks her hair again so that her head is pulled back as far as her neck will allow. Jessica, unable to say a word, merely winces in response.

“Pathetic.” He spits. 

As Kilgrave is finishing his assault, he slams back into her one last time, “You,” He growls, “Belong to _me_.”

He finally pulls away and spreads Jessica’s thighs open to glance upon his handiwork in perverse admiration. Bile stings the back of her throat as she lies there like some prized hunting trophy ready to be hung on a wall and revered.

“Go to sleep. We’ll head to Greece in the morning.”

And with that her body goes limp. Sinking down into the bed, her eyes shut and breathing steadies, as she falls into another night of torturous rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was originally a lot longer, as I planned to include their entire stay in Italy, however, my barely functioning brain could not handle editing and posting the full thing at once so I'm breaking it up into smaller sections. I also removed a lot of the original explicit non-con elements so it may seem a little choppy towards the end because I realized this story doesn't need to be any more distressing than it already is. 
> 
> On a related note: Kilgrave has got to be one of the densest villains to ever exist. The man could dismantle The Avengers (or anyone else for that matter) with one word, but he's so infatuated with a pretty girl that the best thing he can think to do with his powers is drink expensive wine and go yachting like some wannabe Instagram influencer. Like, come on dude, think a little bigger.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! The next chapter may take us back to the very beginning of Jessica's captivity when she and Kilgrave first crossed paths that fateful NY night or I may jump to the pair's travels in Europe. Either way, this story will be nonlinear and is not necessarily going to follow season 2 and 3 of the Netflix series.


End file.
